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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28364958">hold on to your promises</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacyevans/pseuds/jacyevans'>jacyevans</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Solstice [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(literally), Alternate Universe - Gods &amp; Goddesses, Begging, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale is a God, Explicit Consent, M/M, Marking, Nemeton, Oaths &amp; Vows, POV Stiles Stilinski, Possessive Derek Hale, Power Dynamics, Praise Kink, Rituals and Magic, Spring Equinox, Top Derek Hale</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:54:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,471</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28364958</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacyevans/pseuds/jacyevans</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“What does it mean?”</p><p>Derek stills only for a moment before stroking  the mark in question on Stiles’ hip. “It means you are under my protection. That no other god can harm you.” Derek kisses him, soft, then pulls back, and the smirk on his face wipes all other thoughts from his mind.</p><p>“It means—” Derek rolls him onto his back, settling his weight on top of Stiles, “—that you are <i>mine.”</i></p><p>Stiles arches his back, pushing them closer together, grinning when Derek’s hips stutter against his own. “Prove it to me then.”</p><p>Derek’s brow furrows. “Prove what?”</p><p>“Prove that I am yours. That I am only yours.” He nips at Derek’s ear and whispers, “Make me believe it.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Solstice [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057208</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>507</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Sterek Goodness</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>hold on to your promises</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I still know wolfsbane doesn't have a strong scent. Please continue to humor me.</p><p>Thank you, once again, to redbelles and wolfflock for the betas and encouragements.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles doesn’t see Derek again for over a year.</p><p>Winter passes into spring, bringing with it warmth, light, and new growth. The trees grow their leaves, the animals wake from their months-long slumber, and the plants that ripen earliest in the year begin to bear fruit.</p><p>The rowan tree in the temple has grown, too, far faster than any tree Stiles has ever seen. The buds have turned to tiny leaves, the branches already twice as long as before, the trunk twice as tall. Only the wolfsbane flowers look exactly the same as the day they appeared. </p><p>Stiles has been back to the temple at least once a month since the night he summoned Derek. The god hasn’t returned, but he leaves his own messages, letting him know he hears Stiles’ prayers. A small bag of herbs to brew for tea when he caught sick at the end of winter that cured his cough practically overnight. A pair of rabbits after Stiles says that game has been in low supply, and he worries his father is starving himself, just so Stiles can eat. A wolfsbane flower that never dies. A paw print in the dirt that<em>—</em>as Stiles suspected<em>—</em>exactly matches the mark Derek burned into his hip.</p><p>Once<em>—</em>after Stiles expresses feeling ridiculous talking to nothing but a magic tree and some stone walls, wondering aloud if he should stop<em>—</em>there’s a note, scrawled on a piece of ripped parchment paper, in handwriting neat and achingly beautiful. But then, Stiles is biased—everything about Derek is beautiful.</p><p><em>I hear you,</em> the note says.<em> Don’t stop.</em></p><p>Stiles’ heart skips a beat. He doesn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day. He keeps the note in a pocket he sews onto the inside of his shirts, close to his heart at all times. </p><p>The mark on his hip fades, eventually turning the light brown color of an old birthmark. He finds himself touching it often when he’s alone, tracing the edges with his fingers. Something happened that night, out in those ruins in the woods, and it has nothing to do with lying with Derek or saving his people. Stiles feels changed, in ways he isn’t sure he could explain if asked. </p><p>Their harvest that autumn is the most fruitful Beacon has seen in decades. Stiles’ father says he can’t remember a year this prosperous since before he met Stiles’ mother, long before Stiles was born.</p><p>He slots Stiles a look out of the corner of his eye, and as usual, Stiles pretends not to see it. He hasn’t told his father exactly what happened at the temple that night, just bits and pieces of information, and absolutely nothing that so much as references sexual relations. His father always respected his mother and her beliefs, but rarely participated in any of her traditions. Those special days at the temple were for Stiles and his mother and them alone. </p><p>Almost sixteen months pass before Stiles sees Derek again. He knows. He has been counting them, marking them off on the back of the note Derek wrote.</p><p>The night of the Spring Solstice, as he has every other Solstice of the year, Stiles dons his cloak and boots and sets off to the temple. The air is warm, pleasantly so, and Stiles finds the back of his neck dripping with sweat, even with the cool breeze. </p><p>He walks through the doorway of the temple, thinking about how good it will feel to dip his feet into the cool water of the stream. He stops short.</p><p>Derek is sitting on the stump of the nemeton, eyes wide and bright, the fledgling rowan tree tall enough now that the highest leaves tower above the top of his head. A smile blooms across his face when he sees Stiles. Stiles can’t keep the grin off of his own face<em>—</em>to do so would be physically impossible.</p><p>He rushes across the distance between them, tripping over his own two feet and falling into Derek’s arms. </p><p>The moment he’s within reach, Derek tugs him down by the back of his neck, pressing their lips together. He laughs into the kiss. “Had I known you would literally fall into my arms, I would have been here sooner.”</p><p>Stiles flushes, tugging Derek closer and slotting their hips together, grinding against Derek’s cock until he moans.</p><p>“Stop teasing me and take off your godforsaken clothes,” he gasps into Derek’s mouth.</p><p>“Interesting choice of words.”</p><p>Stiles groans, exasperated as he drops his head to Derek’s shoulder.</p><p>The god laughs again. “Have I rendered you speechless? I did not think that was possible.”</p><p>“I missed you,” Stiles says softly. He raises his head, carding a hand through Derek’s hair. The smile he receives in return is soft, fond, and full of love, everything he has ever desired from another person.</p><p>They don’t even manage to get their clothes off. Stiles lets his breeches pool at his feet, while Derek only lowers the waistband enough to get his cock out. He stares at Stiles’ hip, eyes growing dark as he presses his palm to the mark there. </p><p>“Derek,” Stiles whispers, and Derek only looks up long enough to shove Stiles back against the wall. They come together quickly, all desperate fingers and sloppy mouths. There are no games this time, only Derek’s hand gripping both of their cocks together, stroking them to completion. Stiles clings to Derek’s arms, biting kiss after biting kiss pressed against his lips, his jaw, the curve of his neck. He cries out into Derek’s mouth when he comes, and Derek grunts, thrusting his hips up into his hand.</p><p>“Come,” Stiles says, and he nips at Derek’s jaw. “Come for <em>me.</em>”</p><p>Derek lets out a hoarse cry as he comes. He drops his head to Stiles’ shoulder, panting into his skin. His left hand hasn’t moved from Stiles’ hip.</p><p>“Wow,” Stiles says, breathless. Derek chuckles and presses a gentle kiss to his shoulder.</p><p>They manage to strip off the rest of their clothes, quickly tossing them to the ground in favor of touching each other. Stiles shivers as Derek lays him down among the grass and wolfsbane flowers, kissing him slow and languid with none of the desperation from their earlier coupling. Stiles kisses his way down Derek’s neck, nipping at the shell of his ear and relishing the gasp he receives in response.</p><p>He rolls onto his side, pressing his ear to Derek’s chest, listening to his heartbeat and silently wondering if it's real or just some trick of magic to make him appear alive.</p><p>Derek presses soft kisses to his brow and runs his fingers over the mark on Stiles’ hip.</p><p>“What does it mean?” Stiles asks.</p><p>Derek stills only for a moment before circling the mark again with his thumb. “How do you know it means something?”</p><p>Stiles rolls his eyes, leaning back enough that Derek can see his face. “Because I am not an idiot. And you haven’t been able to stop touching me there since I disrobed.”</p><p>Derek huffs a laugh into his hair. “I did not mean to insinuate that you are an idiot.”</p><p>“You know, you’re very good at avoiding my questions. Except that I know you are avoiding them, which defeats the purpose.”</p><p>Derek sighs. He doesn’t stop touching Stiles as he says, “It means you are under my protection. That no other god can harm you, or your kin.”</p><p>Stiles’ heart breaks a little knowing that Derek extended his protection to his father, that he was listening all those days when Stiles spoke of how much he worries, how much it would destroy him if he lost the only family he has left.</p><p>Derek kisses him gently, then pulls back, and the smirk on his face wipes all thoughts of Stiles’ father from his mind.</p><p>“It means<em>—</em>” Derek rolls him onto his back, settling his weight on top of Stiles, “<em>—</em>that you are <em>mine.</em>”</p><p>Stiles bites his lip to hold in a moan. He’s always been independent, often spending days alone with no one but himself or his father or perhaps the neighbor’s cat for company. He isn’t fond of most other people. He never thought he would wish to belong to somebody.</p><p>He wants to belong to Derek, more than he has wanted almost anything else in his entire life.</p><p>Stiles arches his back, pushing them closer together, grinning when Derek’s hips stutter against his own. “Prove it to me then.”</p><p>Derek’s brow furrows. “Prove what?”</p><p>“Prove that I am yours. That I am only yours.” He nips at Derek’s ear and whispers, “Make me believe it.”</p><p>Derek groans, then turns bright eyes to Stiles, smile turning a little mean.</p><p>Yes, Stiles thinks to himself,<em> yes.</em></p><p>“But how shall I do that?” Derek asks. He trails a claw-tipped finger down Stiles’ arm, sending a shiver up Stiles’ spine.</p><p>“I have no idea.” He opens his eyes wider, giving the false appearance of innocence. </p><p>Derek’s smirk disappears as he laughs. “You are no innocent flower, Stiles.”</p><p>“No, because you corrupted me.”</p><p>“Did I now?” He leans down, mouth a hair's breadth away from Stiles. When Stiles lifts his head, he pulls back further. “Would you like me to corrupt you again?”</p><p>Stiles groans, “Yes,” and Derek lets him close the distance between them.</p><p>Stiles kisses him, deep and desperate, opening his mouth to Derek’s tongue.</p><p>Derek brings a hand up to hold him in place, hand winding tight in his hair to tug him backwards. “I thought I was convincing you.”</p><p>“You make an excellent point.” Stiles lies flat on his back, splaying his thighs open. Derek rocks his knee between Stiles’ legs, giving him something to rub against. Every time he comes into contact with Derek’s knee, sparks shoot straight from his pelvis up his spine, until nothing but molten pleasure drips through his veins.</p><p>Then Derek flips him over onto his stomach with a swiftness that leaves Stiles gasping. “I thought you wanted to see my face when you brought me pleasure.” He smirks when Derek’s fingers fumble at his waist.</p><p>Stiles yelps as Derek tugs him up onto his hands and knees. </p><p>He nips at the back of Stiles’ neck. “That was then. Now, I plan to take you just,” a kiss between Stiles’ shoulder blades, “like,” teeth dragging down Stiles’ spine, “this.” Derek bites at his hip, opposite the mark burnt into Stiles’ skin like a brand. He sucks the skin between his teeth, leaving Stiles writhing.</p><p>“You like to see me wearing your marks,” Stiles says, when he manages to catch his breath. “You like everyone knowing that I belong to you.” </p><p>Derek groans, forehead pressing to the middle of Stiles’ back as he ruts between Stiles’ thighs. Stiles tilts his hips, giving him easier access.</p><p>“If you can still form sentences, I must be doing something wrong.”</p><p>“No, you’re<em>—</em>” Stiles’ voice cuts off with a whine as Derek slides a finger between his cheeks, slick with oil. He teases at Stiles’ hole, rubbing in slow, maddening circles.</p><p>Stiles pushes back and tries to trick Derek into going further. He grips tight to Stiles’ side, keeping him in place.</p><p>He whines, “Derek, please.”</p><p>Derek hums, finally slipping his finger inside. “See? Was that so hard?” He slides a second finger in just as Stiles starts to respond. The stretch of it burns in the best way, sparking along his nerves when Derek crooks his fingers just right.</p><p>Stiles moans, dropping his head down. “More,” he gasps. “Derek, please, more.”</p><p>Derek chuckles, the nails of his free hand dragging up and down Stiles’ thigh. “Patience,” he rumbles, and if he’s trying to soothe Stiles, the word has the opposite effect. </p><p>Stiles rocks backwards, desperately trying to tempt Derek into moving faster. Derek pinches the inside of his thigh between his nails, and he cries out, so distracted by the pain that he doesn’t realize Derek’s added a third finger until he thrusts them inside, twisting and pressing against that spot inside him that makes Stiles shake. His wrists give way, and Derek catches him, easing his head down to his folded arms. His legs ache, and he tries to roll some of his weight off of his knees, cursing when something sharp presses into his calf. </p><p>“One day, I swear to you, we are going to do this in a bed.”</p><p>Derek huffs a laugh as he lines himself up and slides inside. Stiles tries to breathe, but the <em>fullburnstretch</em> feels so good, too good. He grips tightly at the grass, trying his best to stay still, to be good. He trembles as Derek stops moving, sheathed fully inside him, nails digging into the dirt and kicking up the smell of crushed flowers. </p><p>Derek carefully pries his hands loose. He twines their fingers together and drags them up over Stiles’ head. Tiny pinpricks of pain burst where Derek’s claws dig into his palm.  Stiles arches his back, rolling his hips up as Derek thrusts down in a slow, synchronized undulation of their bodies. He gasps, throwing his head back, eyes fluttering shut. Derek leans down, lips pressed to the curve of his jaw, mouthing down the column of his throat.</p><p>He nips at the back of Stiles’ neck, teeth biting down at the curve of his shoulder, the points of teeth at either end of the bite too sharp to be anything but fangs. Stiles whimpers loudly, and Derek freezes in place.</p><p>“Are you… okay?” Stiles pants out.</p><p>“I was going to ask you that,” Derek rasps, sounding far less composed than he’s been trying to project. “Did I hurt you?”</p><p>Stiles can’t help but huff out a breath of laughter. He pulls at his fingers until Derek releases one of his hands. He reaches around, twisting his neck and fumbling until he can drag Derek’s mouth to his own. “Not in any way I didn’t want to be hurt.”</p><p>Derek’s eyes bleed red and stay that way. The fingers of his free hand press into Stiles’ hips, and Stiles knows he’ll be feeling the ache for days to come, press his fingers to the bites and bruises in a sharp reminder. His hips jerk at the thought. Derek hisses, holding him tighter.</p><p>“Show me I’m yours,” Stiles breathes against his mouth. “Make me believe it.”</p><p>There’s no other way to describe what follows but as a claiming. Derek slams into him, forcing his back into a sharp arch as he presses Stiles’ shoulders to the ground, leaving him with little leverage but to lie there and take whatever Derek decides to give. Stiles feels his orgasm ricocheting through his body like a tidal wave, but Derek releases one of his hands to grip the base of his cock, effectively ending his climax before it starts.</p><p>“Derek<em>—</em>” Stiles keens as Derek releases him in favor of rolling his balls in his palm. He whines when Derek stops moving altogether, leaning over Stiles with the tip of his cock just barely inside him. “Derek<em>—</em>please. <em>Please, please, please.</em>”</p><p>“Say it,” Derek grunts into his neck. “You know what I want to hear.” He holds Stiles in place with a hand around his throat, firm but not squeezing, somehow threat and shelter both. “Be good for me and <i>say it.</i>”</p><p>“I’m yours,” Stiles gasps out. The words vibrate against Derek’s palm. “I’m yours, Derek.” </p><p>"Good boy. Again."</p><p>He cries out as Derek grips his hips, thrusting into him with a strength that leaves Stiles unable to do anything but choke out, “Yours, yours, yours,” over and over again.</p><p>Derek strokes his cock once, twice, and then he’s coming, orgasm slamming into his body and leaving every inch of him tingling from head to toe. Derek follows him over the edge barely a minute later, groaning into the back of Stiles’ neck.</p><p>Derek rolls to the side, turning and tugging at Stiles until they’re lying down facing each other.  Stiles presses his head under Derek’s chin, arms and legs so tightly wound that Stiles isn’t entirely sure where one of them ends and the other begins. </p><p>He presses desperate kisses to Derek’s skin as they both catch their breath. Derek strokes his hands up and down Stiles’ back. Neither of them make any attempt at conversation, content to hold each other close, running gentle hands over sensitive skin.</p><p>They lie there together until the sun comes up, the horizon spun with shades of orange and gold before one of them speaks again.</p><p>“You are mine, Stiles,”  Derek says, his breath ruffling Stiles’ hair at his ear. He drags his fingers up and down Stiles’ arm. “And I’m yours. Never forget that.”</p><p>“Why?” Stiles blurts out the question before he can stop himself.</p><p>“Why what?”</p><p>“Why me?” </p><p>Derek goes still. </p><p>Stiles continues, undeterred now that he’s voiced the question that has haunted his every waking and dreaming moment for over a year. “You are a god. You could have anyone in the entire universe. <em>People from places I could not even begin to fathom,</em>” Stiles says, mimicking Derek’s voice as terribly as possible, “as you so succinctly informed me the last time we were together. Why choose me?”</p><p>A brief, anxiety-provoking moment passes before Derek exhales against his skin and says, “Because you haven’t forgotten us.” He continues to stroke up and down Stiles’ arm. There’s enough of a lull that Stiles starts to doze off, thinking that is all the explanation Derek is willing to offer and he’ll just have to learn to live with the mystery. </p><p>“We would listen every time your mother brought you here,” Derek says softly. Stiles’ head snaps up, eyes wide, heart beating wildly in his chest.</p><p>“You’ve been watching me this entire time?” Stiles finally manages to choke out.</p><p>“Yes.” Derek presses a kiss to the crown of his head. “There was something about you that drew me in. My sisters could see it. So could my mother. But there was never anything more than an unexplainable intrigue until the night you summoned me.”</p><p>Stiles bites his lip. The thought rolls through his head so quickly, he’s able to school his features into a smile before Derek picks up on it.</p><p>“You’re wondering why we did not save your mother.”</p><p>Or not.</p><p>Stiles drops the facade. “I didn’t realize you could read minds.”</p><p>“I can’t. But I know you.”</p><p>Stiles doesn’t say anything. He draws random patterns on Derek’s chest with his fingers, for want of something to do with his hands.</p><p>Derek gently grips his chin and tilts his face up, forcing him to meet his eyes. “Your mother was right. Sometimes, even the gods’ hands are tied.”</p><p>Stiles crumbles. He buries his face in Derek’s chest and doesn’t bother fighting back tears. Derek holds him close as he cries, petting up and down his back, comforting him without words.</p><p>“I know,” Stiles croaks. He pulls away enough to ask Derek a question, afraid of the answer he might receive, but needing to know all the same. “The famine<em>—</em>was that because I stopped coming here?”</p><p>He brushes the tears from Stiles’ cheeks with his thumb. “No. That was not your doing, Stiles. That was from an unavoidable drought and years of bad luck.” Stiles brushes his fingers over Derek’s face, needing to touch. “My mother isn’t that spiteful. Besides, she understood. We all did.”</p><p>“Were you… angry with me?”</p><p>“No. But it was<em>—</em>lonely, without you or your mother’s prayers. The others forgot about us a long time ago.”</p><p>Stiles sits up, keeping an inch between them that feels like a mile. Derek follows. “What would you have done? If I refused to bed you from the beginning and instead offered you my life. What would you have done?”</p><p>Derek doesn’t hesitate to answer this time. “I would have let you live.”</p><p>“And if I changed my mind later?”</p><p>“If you had changed your mind while I was already inside you, I would have stopped as soon as you voiced your decision.” Derek cups his face in his hand. “I told you, Stiles. Nothing you don’t want.”</p><p>Stiles presses their foreheads together. His lips brush against Derek’s lips when he speaks.  “And what about you? What do you want?”</p><p>“You. Forever.” His lips curl into a small smile. “In this life and the next and the next and the next, and any time in between.”</p><p>Stiles can’t help but kiss him then, soft and tender, but somehow more poignant than the rest of their kisses put together. </p><p>He doesn't know if what Derek longs for is a possibility, even for a god. But if it is<em>—</em></p><p>“I give myself freely,” Stiles whispers, a promise of forever that he intends to find a way to keep. </p><p>Derek’s smile shines brighter than the sun.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The Spring Equinox marks the moment in the year where the light that was rekindled in winter balances the darkness and then overtakes it. The equinox is when the day and night are of equal lengths. Years ago, the Ancients celebrated the spring equinox as the start of a new year, a time of re-birth and renewal. <a href="https://foreverconscious.com/spring-autumn-equinox-rituals">(x)</a><br/> </p><p>Inspiration: <a href="https://www.wikigallery.org/wiki/painting_290487/(after)-Abraham-Louis-Rudolph-Ducros/A-View-Of-The-Temple-Of-Vesta-At-Tivoli">A View of the Temple of Vesta at Tivoli</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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